


Silent Reading Time

by mizdiz



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Headcanon, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Season/Series 10, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:00:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22048288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mizdiz/pseuds/mizdiz
Summary: You're not supposed to talk during silent reading time.
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Carol Peletier
Comments: 2
Kudos: 58





	Silent Reading Time

Daryl’s bedroom—if you can call it that—is quiet. There are no screams, no blades piercing flesh—none of the sounds of the usual chaos. Instead, the room is blanketed in a peaceful calm, reminiscent of one of those cliched Sunday mornings; the ones like in all the romance stories, where you wake up entangled with your lover, and spend the next few hours partaking in languorous fucking, until deciding it’s time for brunch, and you bring pancakes and bacon with you right back into bed.

There aren’t any pancakes and bacon, it’s not morning, and the concept of Sundays are hard to keep track of anymore, but Daryl is tangled up with his lover. That’s weird for him to think about. His  _ lover _ . That’s quite a word, isn’t it? It implies that he is loved.

Carol rests her head in Daryl’s lap, knees bent, a thin paperback book held open in one hand. He can feel the rise and fall of her chest—notices it every time she shifts to get comfortable—and Daryl never realized how much he craved touch until he began getting it regularly. 

If it were up to him, he’d spend every hour of the day touching Carol. Not even sexually. He appreciates it all. The casual brushing of hands as they walk down the Alexandrian streets, or the way she lets him hold her at the waist when they stand during council meetings—it’s all a gift to Daryl. 

But also like, don’t get him wrong. He likes the sexual touches, too.

Daryl went years and years without anything but the inside of his pants and his right hand seeing his dick, and he never thought much of it, but now that he’s getting it on the regular? It’s as though he’s suddenly insatiable. He’s horny all the time, like a fifteen year old kid popping a stiffy every time the breeze hits him too hard. It can’t be helped, though, it’s not in his control—Carol is just too damn beautiful. And now that he knows what she feels like? What she  _ tastes _ like? What sane man could get enough of that?

When he’s out tinkering with his bike he thinks about her warm mouth wrapped around him, her tongue doing indecent little swirls on his tip.

When he’s standing around during a boring council meeting where people are debating how much goddamn wheat to trade with Oceanside, he thinks about what it’d be like to hitch her leg up on his hip and fuck her on one of those meeting room tables.

When she’s lying on his lap, her delicate fingers turning pages, and her tongue wetting her lower lip as she concentrates on something other than him, he thinks about running his hands all up and down her body and giving her something else to pay attention to.

He has his own book in his hands. It’s a memoir from some dumb rich white kid who went to a bunch of places where brown people lived and wrote about all the  _ fascinating _ sights and customs he saw that probably don’t exist anymore, or if they do, Daryl will never know about it. It’s tolerable, but not nearly as interesting as the strip of skin he can see where Carol’s shirt has been pushed up. 

Her eyes move back and forth slowly, scanning the pages of her paperback, so focused there’s a crease in her brow. Daryl might as well not even be in the room.

Without setting his own book down, Daryl rests his hand on her belly. Casually. Easy to be written off as innocent. Carol doesn’t even react. 

_ “The expanse of the Indian ocean was breathtaking as I embarked on my next journey,” _ says the douchey kid in Daryl’s book. 

Daryl walks his fingers down her taut abdomen, past her belly button, and comes to a stop atop her jutting pelvic bone. Still no reaction.

She’s wearing pajama pants, with an elastic waistband, so it’s hardly a challenge to slip underneath them. There are no panties to speak of, good lord, and he brushes the tips of his fingers over the thin curls he finds there. Carol shifts the most miniscule amount, real easy to miss, and turns another page. 

_ “The expanse of the Indian ocean was breathtaking as I embarked on my next journey,” _ the douchey kid says again as Daryl’s eyes gloss over the same passage. 

Daryl ghosts over her lower lips, and bites back a smirk when the muscles in her thighs jump at the tickle. He holds open her labia with his thumb and middle finger, and then draws a slow,  _ slow  _ circle around the circumference of her opening. He hears her swallow, her book still propped up in front of her face; his eyes still glued to his. 

When he’s teased her enough, he dips inside her. Two fingers slide in easily, her pussy wetting his entire hand. It drives him absolutely bashit bonkers to know that he gets her horny like this; that it’s his touch that has her soaking through the thin fabric of her flannel pajama bottoms. Her breath hitches when he starts a rhythmic motion against her walls. The inside of her expands and contracts around him involuntarily as he hooks his fingers and gestures come-hither in a solid, pulsing pace. 

_ “The expanse of the Indian ocean was blah, blah, blah,” _ Daryl’s book reads, or maybe it says something else, he doesn’t know or care. The only thing on his mind is the way she’s trying to keep her hips from bucking up. She’s so stubborn, this woman, refusing to tear herself away from that damn paperback, even after he adds a third finger, and his hard-on is right there next to her face on his lap. 

He’ll get her to pay attention to him, damnit.

Without breaking his rhythm, he moves his thumb to her clit. The pride that blooms through him at the strangled sound that she can’t quite bite back is downright pretentious, but he’s multitasking pretty impressively, if he may say so, and he’s entitled to a little pride.

He draws gentle shapes on her sensitive flesh with the pad of his thumb, skin sliding over skin with ease with how slick she is. The words on the page of his book don’t make sense anymore; it’s entirely possible he’s lost the ability to read. She’s still pretending, though; is still staring at black text on white paper, even as her breath comes out as literal pants through parted lips.

But he’s not an idiot. She stopped turning pages a good while ago.

Her orgasm starts with seemingly every muscle in her body coming alive at once, jumping and flexing. And then, with a tremendous shudder, she goes completely still, say for the walls gripping Daryl’s fingers, going wild. She arches her back, and she can’t help it anymore—he’s finger fucked the silent reading time right out of her as she makes filthy, erotic sounds, loling her head to the side and breathing out his name in a way no one but her has ever said it; in a way no one but her is  _ allowed _ to say it.

Then, only then, does she lower her book, letting it drop to the floor as her arm goes limp at her side. Daryl tosses his own book. Who the fuck cares what happened in some stranger’s life years ago, in places Daryl has never heard of, when he’s pulling his hand out of the most beautiful woman and licking his fingers clean? The Seven Wonders, the four oceans, the civilizations he’ll never see—who gives a damn? With Carol staring up at him with her pupils blown wide, her chest heaving, looking absolutely wrecked, he has the best sight in the world right here in his room.

“Book that interestin’?” he asks her, and a grin spreads across her face as she collects herself.

“It’s not bad,” she says. She pushes herself up and straddles Daryl’s hips, her arms wrapped loosely around his neck. Against his mouth she whispers, “But something else has my attention now.” 

**Author's Note:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> -diz


End file.
